Firm Hand

by Nora Phoenix

  "Okay," he said, determined not to show Rhys any of what he was feeling. It wouldn't be fair to him, to make him feel even remotely guilty. There was that word again, fair. "Have a good day at work."

  He couldn't quite look Rhys in the eyes, and the man studied him for a few seconds before he gave a slow nod. "I should be home around five thirty or so. Take good care of yourself, okay?"

  And then Rhys left, and Cornell sat there, all by himself in the house he knew so well, feeling desperately alone. It was ridiculous, and more than a little pathetic. As if someone like Rhys could ever want him for real.

  He finished breakfast, rinsing out his bowl and putting it in the dishwasher. He’d been reading a book the day before, and finishing that took care of the first hour. Then he went through the exercises Rhys made him do daily, as much because they benefitted him as because he didn’t want to disappoint Rhys when he came home and asked about it.

  Another cup of coffee. It was only ten. How the hell was he supposed to get through the rest of the day?

  He decided to run a load of laundry, something he could do with his still limited physical abilities. He’d just turned the machine on when his sister called. He sighed. This was not a conversation he was looking forward to, especially considering the mood he was in.

  “Hey Sarah, how are you?” he answered.

  They chatted for a bit about her kids, the dogs, the rabbit that someone had dumped on her front step, knowing she would take it in.

  “How are you?” she asked. “How’s the physical therapy going?”

  Cornell almost laughed. Physical therapy, there was a euphemism for what he and Rhys had been doing. But he was pretty sure his sister didn’t want to know about that, even if he were willing to talk about it. “It’s going slow, but well. With every session, I can feel improvement afterward. My shoulder especially is still getting better daily.”

  “So you’re ready to move back into your own house?” Sarah asked.

  A wave of emotions rolled over Cornell. What the hell was she talking about? Of course he wasn’t ready. “I’m not there yet,” he said. “There’s still a lot I can’t do by myself, and my physical endurance is still low.”

  “So you hire someone to do your household work for you or a nurse or something to check in on you daily,” she said.

  There, in a nutshell, was Cornell’s problem with his sister. She meant well, he knew she did, and she loved him, but she had the annoying habit of always trying to fix things for him, even things that he didn’t feel needed fixing.

  “For now, I’m happy to stay here,” he said.

  He could almost hear the wheels turn in her head. "But surely Jonas’s son must be tired of having you around by now. You've been there for two weeks. Isn't it time to get out of his hair?"

  "His name is Rhys, and he said I'm welcome to stay as long as I want to," Cornell said, feeling himself getting defensive.

  Sarah chuckled. "Cornell, I hate to say this to you, but you can be a little naïve sometimes. Are you sure he didn't say that out of politeness? It's the socially acceptable thing to say, you know."

  It was funny how he had every patience in the world as a sub, waiting for his Dom to give instructions, but zero when it came to his sister. "Considering you've never even met him, I'd say I’m probably better at gauging whether or not he means something, don't you think?"

  "It feels to me like you're taking advantage of his hospitality," Sarah said, and now she sounded defensive. "Besides, your own house is sitting there empty, which is kind of a waste as well."

  He rolled his eyes, glad she couldn't see it. "What the hell difference does that make? It's not like I'm paying rent here."

  "I wish you would set yourself some deadlines," Sarah said. "To help you get motivated to move on."

  Ah, moving on. There was Sarah's catchphrase. She'd been on his case about moving on since a week after Jonas had died. For some reason, she'd never been a fan of him, even though his parents had loved Jonas and had always welcomed him with open arms. Then again, the whole relationship between him and Sarah had changed irrevocably since their parents had passed away.

  "How about you let me decide when I'm ready to move on," he said, forcing to keep his tone friendly.

  "I feel like you've been stuck ever since Jonas died," Sarah said. "You're not working, you're not moving back into your house, you're not doing anything."

  "I'm recovering, for fuck's sake!" he snapped at her. "I’m trying to get my body back to a place where I can live rather than exist. I'm trying to process the fact that my best friend is gone. I’m trying to imagine a life after what I’ve been through. I’m trying, okay?"

  "I hope you realize how privileged you are," Sarah said, her tone ice cold. "There are few people would be able to try as long as you have. Must be nice, having a financial cushion like that."

  And there they were again, the real reason why Sarah had started to resent him. No matter what, it always came back to the money. "That's a funny definition of privilege to have, considering I not only lost my best friend but am permanently injured myself."

  Sarah was quiet for a few beats before she responded, her tone slightly more mellow. "You know what I mean."

  "Yes, I do. And just so you know, I would give away all the money in a heartbeat if I could have Jonas back. Think about that next time before you call me privileged, would you?"

  He ended the call after that, not willing to entertain her bitterness anymore. She'd already managed to get way more of a rise out of him than he wanted. Jonas had warned him to stop giving her so much power over him. Cornell had cracked up with laughter about Jonas's dry explanation of a fuck budget, meaning the amount of fucks you had to give in any given day, and how he should stop giving fucks about Sarah, since he'd run out of them for the things that really mattered. God, he'd been so right.

  Cornell and Sarah had never been particularly close, which he'd always attributed to the six-year age difference between them, with Sarah being older. But they'd at least been friendly, even if Sarah had disapproved of a lot of the life choices he made. That had all changed after their parents had died within months of each other, his mom taken by breast cancer after a four-year battle, his dad succumbing to liver cancer months later.

  It wasn't their deaths that had made Sarah angry, although she had taken it hard. It was that they left most of their money to him, something he hadn't known until their lawyer had read their will. How he wished they would've told him so he would have at least been prepared or could've told them he didn't want it, didn't want the drama that came with it. Their reasoning had been that he was alone, whereas Sarah had a husband with a good job and with siblings who did well in life too. In short: she had a support system, he didn’t—at least, that had been their reasoning.

  Sarah had been furious when she’d learned about it, accusing Cornell of influencing their parents. Hell, she'd even gone as far as suggesting he’d set it up, considering he was an estate lawyer. But apparently, their parents had expected that, and their will had contained an irrefutable passage in direct, crystal clear language about Cornell not knowing anything about it, and their lawyer had confirmed that. None of that had mattered to Sarah, who’d turned bitter, resenting Cornell.

  He'd hoped it would get better over time, but here they were, three years later, and she still held a grudge. He really should stop giving a fuck.

  He got the laundry out of the washer and put it in the dryer. A few more exercises, another cup of coffee he really shouldn't allow himself but did because he felt sorry for himself, and by then it was only eleven.

  He didn't want to think about it, but it slowly dawned on him that maybe Sarah had been right about one thing. Her casual mention of work left him feeling slightly guilty. Shortly after the accident, he’d checked in regularly with his firm, but he hadn't done that in days now. With reluctance, he pulled up his phone again and called his secretary, a brilliant, type A-organized guy called Roan.

  "He
y, Cornell, it's so good to hear from you," Roan said. "How are you?"

  Cornell gave him the short spiel, surprised when Roan asked more questions. "So, how have things been there?" he asked.

  "Good. I handed off all new cases to Mr. Pike, as you requested. There have been a number of calls from clients, and the ones that I couldn't answer, I asked for advice from Mr. Pike, and he helped me. I've sent you a few emails that you can look over at your convenience."

  "I'll have a look at them later," Cornell said, surprising himself by how little he cared. "It sounds like you've got a good handle on things."

  "I've got everything covered," Roan said.

  They chatted a bit more, with Roan asking him some quick questions about practical stuff, and then they ended the call. Cornell knew he should look at those emails, should look at his email in general, but he really didn't want to. It felt like a different life, a different person, like that hadn't even been him. And in a sense, it hadn't been, not the person he was today. He'd changed irrevocably because of the accident, both physically and emotionally, and he’d never ever be the old Cornell again.

  It was a disorienting realization, almost like looking at a stranger. No, not a stranger, because he was still intimately familiar with that person. A friend. He could look at himself, at the old Cornell, like a dear friend, but it wasn't him. And it never would be him again.

  Because that Cornell had held a full-time job. That Cornell had had a soulmate. That Cornell had struggled with getting older, but had still been healthy. That Cornell hadn't been checking the clock every ten minutes, awaiting the return of a man he should've never gotten involved with in the first place.

  * * *

  Even before his father had passed away, Rhys had known that his job at the large physical therapy practice wasn’t one he wanted to stay in for the long term. He loved working with the broad range of patients from all walks of life he encountered there, but he didn't have much tolerance for the level of politics and lack of flexibility that came with working in a practice that size. But when he’d graduated with his bachelor’s in physical therapy, he'd needed the experience, and that place had been a wonderful start for his career.

  Of course, with the passing of his father and the money he'd inherited, things had changed. In the last two months, he’d made great progress on his plans to open up his own practice, but in the back of his mind, he'd still known that it would take a little while longer. After all, he would lose benefits, the backup of more experienced colleagues, and the ability to participate in a lot of free training his current employer offered.

  The plan had never been to quit so soon, yet halfway through the day, Rhys knew that he would have to. No matter what Cornell decided in the long term, whether there was even a chance of the man staying with him beyond a few weeks more, Rhys wanted to spend every moment he could together. His heart ached from being away from him, and his mind had trouble focusing on his patients because it wanted to make sure Cornell was okay.

  And as arrogant as it sounded, Rhys knew Cornell wanted his presence as well. Or maybe he needed it, more accurately. It was a strange experience, to be so closely connected to someone that you could read their needs without them having to say anything.

  Cornell's body language this morning had been clear as day, and while Rhys respected him for not saying anything, he'd picked up on it nonetheless. Cornell had not been happy Rhys had been leaving for work, and that was putting it mildly. Sure, that was a compliment, but Rhys understood it to be much more than that. Cornell needed him, and that was a heady feeling unlike anything else.

  It only took a few hours of being at work for Rhys to realize it was what he wanted as well, to be with Cornell. Even though it was only a forty-minute drive home, it felt like too great a distance to keep an eye on him, to check in on him, to take care of him. He felt like he was failing him, somehow, by not being home. Rationally, he knew that was ridiculous, but he couldn't shake a deep sense of unease for being away from his sub.

  He checked in with him a few times during the day, texting him and calling him twice. He was glad to hear Cornell had done his exercises, had eaten his lunch, had even done some household work Rhys hadn't ask him to do, and yet, Rhys could hear the quiet undertone of boredom, of need, of desperation.

  Ford texted him sometime during the day, wanting to talk to him, so Rhys told him to call him on his drive home. He was barely in his car when the Dom was already on the phone.

  "How are things going?" Ford asked, and Rhys had rarely appreciated the man's genuine concern more.

  "Really good. We've had a few breakthroughs since the last time we talked."

  He caught Ford up on what had happened during the dinner with Brendan and Raf and the second session they'd had. Ford listened quietly, indicating his approval more than once with appreciative hums. When Rhys got to the part where Cornell had asked him for sex and he turned him down, Ford whistled between his teeth.

  "Can I say this without sounding condescending in any way?" Ford said. "I'm so, so proud of you. Saying no under those circumstances, it was absolutely the right call, but it also wasn't easy for you, and I recognize that. I'm so proud of you for doing the right thing, because it wouldn't have been good for either of you."

  Rhys’s heart warmed at the Dom's rich praise. "Thank you, but to be honest, as much as I wanted him, it wasn't that hard to say no. I knew he meant it in that moment, but I also knew he wasn't in his right state of mind, and there was no way in hell I was going to take advantage of that."

  "Still, for you to recognize that, that's a sign of a good Dom," Ford said. "And I'm so glad to hear things are going well between you two. The fact that you managed to get him into subspace, that's amazing."

  "You should've seen him," Rhys said, hearing his own voice go a little dreamy. "He was so beautiful, the way he sank deeper and deeper. He had this glow about him, this radiance that transformed his face into that of an angel."

  Ford chuckled. "Listen to you, waxing all poetic. You're like a regular Lord Byron, man. But I'm proud of you."

  Rhys smiled at the Dom's joke. "I'm proud of him," he said. "The fact that he managed to get past his own emotions and find freedom in that scene, that's a big accomplishment."

  "So, what's next for you two?" Ford asked. "Is he still going to stay with you for a while?"

  Rhys took a deep breath. "I quit my job today," he said.

  It was quiet on the other end of the line for so long that he checked to make sure he hadn't lost the connection. But no, Ford was still there. "You did what now?" Ford finally asked.

  "You know I've been talking about starting my own practice ever since I graduated," Rhys said.

  "I know, and with the money your dad left you, you thought you might be able to make that reality in a year or so."

  "Exactly, except it's not gonna be in a year or so. It's gonna be right now. I gave notice today."

  "If I may ask the obvious question, why? I thought you wanted to wait," Ford asked.

  "I did, until I discovered what it was like to be away from Cornell."

  "Rhys," Ford said, and Rhys had no trouble picking up on the warning in that tone.

  "I know. Everything you want to say to me, I know. Trust me, I told myself as well. It's too fast, it's too much, I don't even know if he's going to stay with me. I know."

  Ford hummed in approval. "Well, in that case, I'm not going to repeat those arguments. Clearly, you've considered it and made your decision. If you feel this is what you should do, then I have no doubt it's the right call."

  For some reason, that almost brought tears to Rhys's eyes, this easy acceptance of his decision. "Thank you," he said quietly. "It means a lot to me to have your support in this."

  Ford chuckled. "With anyone else, I would've pushed back much harder, but I've never known you to make a truly impulsive decision in your life. Clearly, you've thought about this, whether it was in your subconscious or in your conscious mind. So yes, I trust you're
making the right call."

  "But it is really fast, right?" Rhys said, trying to look at it from Ford's point of view.

  "That depends on when you start counting," Ford said rather cryptically.

  Rhys frowned, trying to follow his line of reasoning. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, clearly this thing with Cornell, however you want to define it, didn't start two weeks ago. If you'd met him two weeks ago, I would've said you’re absolutely batshit crazy for quitting your job, but the fact that you've known him for years, that you've been fascinated with him for years, that makes it completely different. This is not a two-week thing. This is a two-year thing, maybe even more."

  Rhys had to swallow embarrassment for a second that the Dom knew about his fascination, as he called it, with Cornell.

  "Yeah," he said softly. "This has been way more than two years in the making."

  17

  By the time Rhys got home, Cornell was near tears. As much as he told himself it was pathetic and he should get a grip, he couldn't help the growing sense of desperation as the day progressed. How had he gotten attached to this man this fast?

  He'd made the decision a few hours before Rhys was due home. They hadn't talked about this, hadn't mentioned any plans for the future, but Cornell had to do something. He needed to show Rhys he was all-in with this thing between them, whatever this was.

  And so he'd made preparations, not even knowing if Rhys would want to take him up on his offer. He'd declined the day before, though in hindsight, Cornell not only understood, but respected him for that. He didn't think he would've regretted it afterward, had they gone through with it, but it had solidified his trust in Rhys, knowing that the Dom would never take advantage of him, not even when he was in a vulnerable state.